Renegade

You know where I am Lyn.

Mr Cadbury met Miss Rowntree on a Double Decker. It was just After Eight. They got off at Quality Street. He asked her name. 'Polo, I'm the one with the hole' she said with a Wispa. ... 'I'm Marathon, the one with the nuts' he replied. He touched her Cream Eggs, which was a Kinder Surprise for her. Then he slipped his hand into her Snickers, which made her Ripple. He fondled her Jelly Babies and she rubbed his Tic Tacs. Soon they were Heart Throbs. It was a Fab moment as she screamed in Turkish Delight. But, 3 days later, his Sherbet Dip Dab started to itch. Turns out Miss Rowntree had been with Bertie Bassett and he had Allsorts!

I know he loved it there.

One of the boys who was out with us today had the same problem, mine was ok, no probs.

The prostitutes tax return A woman walks into an accountant's office and tells him that she needs to file her tax returns. The accountant says, "Well, before we begin, I'll need to ask you a few questions." He gets her name, address etc and then asks,"What's your occupation?" "I'm a prostitute," she says. The accountant is somewhat taken aback and says, "Let's try to re phrase that." The woman says, "OK, I'm a high-end call girl". "No, that still won't work. Try again." They both think for a minute; then the woman says, "I'm an elite poultry farmer." The accountant asks, "Excuse my ignorance but what does poultry farming have to do with being a prostitute?" "Well, believe it or not, I must have raised a thousand cocks last year." "Poultry Farmer it is then !!

Christmas poem (adult). Christmas is coming, the goose is full of fat, soon be time for santa, the fucking bearded twat. He'll be coming down the chimney, with chinese toys of cack, he nearly got wedged up there, thanks to his bulging fucking sack. He likes to have a snack or two, and then a drink or three. He's had a fair bit earlier and is busting for a pee. Next, he'll nick your festive grub and chow down on your kippers then shite one in your flower tub, and piss in both your slippers. The dirty smelly wanker ain't had a wash in weeks. It's worse than body odour, the stinky bastard reeks! He's mixed the beer with lemonade, and drunk six pints of shandy, had seven shots of whiskey and half a pint of brandy. He's lurched around the living room, and crashed into the sofa, fell over on a dog chew and knocked the tree clean over. So whilst our drunken santa is behaving like a prawn, his dirty fucking reindeer are all shagging on the lawn. So now he's had his fill of booze, he's ready to depart. And nearly wakes the whole house up with a fucking thunderous fart. He's picked his nose, he's scratched his arse, and then he's touched your food. The dirty unwashed bastard really is so fucking rude. Thank god he's gone outside now, and got into his sleigh. At last the foul old tosser has finally gone away. That's it for another year. And thank fuck for that. It's time to brick the chimney up that will sort the twat!